


Everything Rearranges

by skim_milk



Series: random little Miraculous fics [8]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby, DJWifi, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, One Beer - HARDY, Parenthood, Song fic, Teen Angst, Teen Pregnancy, Teen Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26007295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skim_milk/pseuds/skim_milk
Summary: “The only thing you have taken from me is my heart, and even then you didn’t take it — I gave it to you willingly.”Songfic inspired by HARDY's One Beer a.k.a the DJWifi teen pregnancy fic that no one asked for and you got anyway
Relationships: Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe
Series: random little Miraculous fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767442
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Everything Rearranges

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't realise, this is heavily inspired by the song [One Beer by HARDY](https://youtu.be/NNai9Ns5Y4U), please check it out, it's an amazing song.
> 
> I've been wanting to write this for a while and here it finally is! Hope you like it!
> 
> Shout out to my betas [a_popcorn_kernel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_popcorn_kernel/pseuds/a_popcorn_kernel) and [meirencollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meirencollector/pseuds/meirencollector)!!! You guys are awesome xxx

Just like that, everything rearranges  
Life changes out of the blue  
It's just a Bud Light, but ain't it funny  
What one beer can turn into?

* * *

“I can’t,” Alya told her friend, tears in her eyes. “Marinette, I can’t.”

Marinette struggled to fight back tears at her friend’s pain. “Fighting this will change nothing, Alya,” she told the sobbing girl. “Finding out the truth changes nothing, it only confirms it.”

Alya sobbed harder. “I don’t want to confirm it, though.”

Marinette allowed a single tear to fall as she lowered herself to be level with Alya, who was sitting on the closed toilet lid. “I know, Arls,” she said, using a childish nickname, hoping that it would help to soothe the girl. “I know you don’t,” she reiterated as even more tears welled in her eyes. “I know this is hard, but you have to.”

Alya took a couple of big gulping breaths — inhaled and exhaled as Marinette instructed her — trying to force back the tears, to choke out the sobs before they came out.“Okay.” Her voice was small as she looked down at her hands, the small stick wrapped in paper, the thing that had been taunting her for the past 10 minutes as they had waited for it to develop, to reveal her fate.

To Alya, it seemed that her whole life was currently revolving around one little stick and its one little answer.

_Positive._

She gasped, dropping the test into her lap and her hands flew to her mouth, barely holding back the newest wave of sobs that escaped them.

“Marinette,” she cried. “What am I gonna do? What am I gonna tell Nino? What’s gonna happen?”

Marinette took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together — she had to be strong. She had to be there for Alya. “The truth,” Marinette told her friend. “You tell Nino the truth.”

Alya looked her in the eyes, mouth open as though to respond in some sort of protest, but Marinette cut her off. “Telling lies _never_ helps, Alya. It only makes things worse.”

Alya took a gulp of air, trying to swallow her tears. “What am I gonna do, Marinette?” 

Marinette had her hands on Alya’s shoulders, looking the girl in the eyes. She exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment before looking back at Alya, holding her gaze. Alya had asked Marinette what to do, but only Alya could decide what to do — Marinette could only offer her advice. From there on, it was Alya’s decision what to do.

“You’re going to talk to Nino about this,” the dark-haired girl said in a low whisper. “You’re going to discuss this with him, take his wishes on board, but ultimately what happens is your decision,” the other girl nods along to her words. “Don’t worry about what anyone will say — you are the only one who can make a definite decision,” Alya nodded again.

“But what if he breaks up with me?” She questioned and Marinette’s heart broke. 

_He wouldn’t,_ Marinette wanted to say. _He loves you too much._

But a part of her worried that Alya is right — what if he broke up with her?

No. Marinette had known Nino since kindergarten. Surely he wouldn’t…

Even as she spoke, Marinette knew she didn’t mean the words that came out. “Then he was never worth your time.” 

Alya Césaire felt like she was going to be sick. She could feel the bile bubbling in the pit of her stomach, her breakfast threatening to spill itself over the carpeted floor of her bedroom. 

She half-wished she had asked Marinette to stay — that might have made it easier. Marinette could’ve told Nino for her. But that wouldn’t have been fair. They were best friends, but even that was overstepping the line. 

She paced around her room, waiting for Nino to arrive. Frantically walking back and forth, her eyes flickering towards the clock as the minutes passed by. He was late. 

Well, so was she.

_Maybe he knew?_

She almost wished she could go back to a time where she didn’t.

It was fine. He was only a few minutes late. Nino has been late lots of times before… 

She continued her pacing.

She was still traipsing aimlessly across her room when she heard a knock at the door. _Nino._ Almost 4 minutes after their agreed-upon time. She stopped, trying to listen to the muffled conversation. Then suddenly, the voice of her sister blared through the walls: “Yo, Squidlet, your boyfriend’s here!” 

Squidlet — Nora’s nickname for anyone younger than her. Alya didn’t know where it came from, but suddenly, it didn’t seem appropriate anymore.

_I’m not a ‘squidlet’,_ Alya thought. _Not anymore._

“Send him in!” she called back, trying to keep her voice level, wishing it to not crack or break. 

_Please don’t,_ she thought. _Please don’t come in._

She sat down at her desk chair, pulling out her phone trying to look natural — to act natural. She took a deep breath as she heard Nino’s hand grab at her door handle, took a pause as he listened to something Nora said, heard his laugh, before the inevitable sound of his hand turning the handle.

She watched the knob as it turned, as the door opened slightly, as it hung there while Nino finished his conversation with Nora — something that would normally be comforting now filling her with anxiety and dread. 

When he eventually slipped into her room, he gave her that cheeky grin that she fell in love with. That cheeky grin that got her into the mess she currently found herself in. 

“Hey babe,” he said, pushing the door behind him, but not closing it properly. 

“Hey,” the tone of her voice was low as she greeted him. “Um, close the door,” she told him and his eyebrows furrowed slightly, his grin dropping. But he did as instructed.

“What’s up?” he asked, as he sat down on the corner of the bed, facing her. “You said you wanted to talk,” he said slowly. “Generally that’s not a good sign…” an awkward laugh seeps out of him. 

Alya nodded. “Yeah…” but she wasn't sure where to begin.

“Look,” he pressed on. “I really like you but if—”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” she cut him off, knowing what his main concern was.

He should be concerned about other things.

“Oh, well that’s a relief,” he gave her another smile and she felt its effects as it played with her heart.

Nino, sweet Nino — and she was about to do this to him.

“So what’s up?” he asked.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts and heard Marinette’s voice in her head — _the truth_.

Tell him the truth — but where to start?

She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it before she spoke. “Do you remember the other week?” she questioned, scolding herself when he showed no sign of being able to recall the evening in question. _Of course, be more specific._ “When your family were away for the weekend, and we stole a few of your dad’s beers, and we—” 

“Alya,” he cut her off. “It’s okay,” he said, seeing her obvious distress. “Yeah, I remember it.” She went quiet again, not knowing what to say, which Nino took as a sign of needing to fill the silence. “Look, if I made you uncomfortable or—”

“No!” she cut him off, voice half-raised. “No that’s not it.” she took another breath, trying to push away the eyes that now began to well in her eyes.

“Alya…” he seemed as though he wanted to come closer to comfort her, but he didn't move. 

“I’m late, Nino,” she said softly, half hoping that he wouldn’t hear, that the words wouldn’t be heard and wouldn’t mean anything. She was afraid that speaking the words made them real, that if she kept the words locked away they might disappear, that this whole situation may just evaporate into thin air. 

“Late?” he asked and glanced at the Ladybug themed clock hanging on the wall. “Late to what? Where are you going?”

She closed her eyes, sighing — at least there was some humour to be found in this situation.

“No,” she shook her head at him. “Nino,” another deep breath. “Nino, I’m pregnant.”

Nino was not mad — shocked, yes, but he could never be mad at her. Nor was he mad at her when she made her decision. 

He didn’t expect it to be easy — the best things in life never were. But Nino was a firm believer in the notion that things happened for a reason. 

In the end, it had been Alya’s decision, but long before she had come to her conclusion, Nino had decided to support her no matter the cost. As long as it took, he would be there, supporting her. 

They no longer would be _her_ and _him_ as separate entities — for now, and for the rest of their lives, the rest of eternity, they were inextricably linked to one another. Inseparable in their hearts. 

“Whatever happens, Arls, we’re in this together.,” She looked up at her boyfriend, the father of her unborn child. 

She shook her head. “I can’t do this, Nino.”

“We have to,” was all he said. 

His words rolled around in her head, bouncing back and forth. 

_We have to._

She didn’t want to do this.

_We have to._

But neither did he.

_We have to._

“Together?” she asked him, and he gripped her hand tighter in response. 

“Forever.”

Telling their parents was not easy, it may have been one of the hardest things the two had done in their lives thus far. 

Alya’s parents had been upset but had told the two teens that the next move was up to them. Nino’s parents were less understanding, and so, a shotgun wedding had been arranged. 

Before she was even three months pregnant, Alya was Mrs. Nino Lahiffe. She hated it.

It wasn’t that she hated Nino, hated the idea of being his wife, or hated the fact she was married. No, what she hated were the looks people gave her — they all knew what had happened, what she’d done, what this meant.

She hated how she wore a white dress — it felt like the biggest lie ever told.

White was a colour that was meant to represent purity — something that she no longer had. 

But now, she had a husband, a baby on the way, and a two-bedroom apartment.

The apartment was a wedding present from their parents, yet the newlyweds felt like their families were trying to wipe their hands of them. 

But they made it work. 

Alya’s pregnancy was hard, mentally more than physically — a pregnant 17-year-old was a beacon for unwelcome glances, muttered remarks and pointed fingers — but she came out holding her new son proudly. 

Michel Reynard Lahiffe was born happy and healthy, and that was all that mattered to Alya. Not the looks she got, not the comments, not the pointing fingers — only her newborn son who rested in her arms and her husband who stood proudly at her bedside. 

Her family. 

From where she stood in the kitchen preparing lunch, Alya could hear the muffled sounds of children's shows on the television and the delighted sound of 4-year-old laughter. Nino was keeping Michel company while she made dinner and she knew by the sounds Nino made that he was imitating a car — Michel absolutely adored playing with the set of cars that his godfather, Adrien, had gotten him for his birthday only a few months prior. 

Alya loved the sound of her son’s laughter, of Nino’s laughter too — because the boy took after his father in so many ways, including his laugh (something Alya was so incredibly pleased by). She loved to see him happy, she loved to be with him, to be his mother, but most of all, she loved him.

She opened the fridge, taking out the ingredients she needed and pausing to look at the drawing Michel had proudly stuck to the door with a large, green ‘M’ shaped magnet earlier that week. 

A family, drawn in crayon. The figure on the left stood tall and large — the father, so clearly Nino with his signature red cap scrawled on his head, that even fatherhood and family life never managed to take from him. The rightmost figure was shorter, an orange triangle showing that she was wearing a dress — the mother, Alya in her favourite orange sundress that Marinette had made for her birthday a few years back. The shortest figure was the one in the middle — the child, Michel, in his favourite green shirt. 

When he had shown her the picture, Michel had told Alya it was from the day they had visited the park with Aunty ‘Nette and Uncle Adrien, a second drawing accompanying it showing all five of them (six if you counted Marinette’s full, round belly — which Alya had to laugh at as she sent a photo of the drawing to her friend). 

“Whatcha up to?” Nino said, as he entered the kitchen, she hadn't heard his approach and jumped slightly, easing when she realised who it was. Nino chuckled softly at her antics. 

He took the items from her arms and placed them on the bench, before pulling her back to his chest, holding her there as the two of them observed their son’s drawing, her hands coming up and resting on Nino’s forearms, holding him tight against her.

“You know,” Alya stopped, sighing. “It's been five years,” she turns her head, looking at her husband, the now 22-year old, his brows slightly furrowed in confusion as he meets her eyes.

“Since—?”

“Since I told you,” she said, “that I was pregnant,” she told him, and she can barely believe it has been so long since that day. That time had passed by so quickly. That she had just blinked and it had been five years. If someone had told her where she would be five and a half years ago she might not believe them — so much had happened. 

So much, but not what she had planned out.

Nino gave a slight nod and they stood in silence for a few moments before she asked the question that is always in the back of her mind. The one that was always floating around in the back of her head, that has been nagging at her for too long. “Do you resent me?”

His eyebrows furrowed once more. “Resent you?” he released his grip on her, turning her around and bringing his hands up to her shoulders. “How could I?” 

She tried to fight away the tears that threaten to spill. It was a futile battle, especially now. “Because,” she reasoned. “Because I took so much from you.”

The statement was true, she felt. Nino had had to give up his dream job — DJ-ing — in order to get a job that could support a family. Alya herself had had to leave school to be a mother. They both had lost so much, but, in the long run, had gained even more.

“How could I?” he repeated. “When you have given me so much.” 

Nino cupped her chin, lifting it to find her cheeks glistening wet. He traced his thumb across her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Alya,” he whispered now, his voice that was so soothing and gentle, that it made her want to lean in closer to hear his every word. But she need not move — he spoke directly to her, and only for her. “The only thing you have taken from me is my heart, and even then you didn’t take it — I gave it to you willingly.” He wiped her other tear-stained cheek. “I love you,” he told her. “You and Michel — the two of you are my whole world. The rest of it could catch fire and I couldn't care less, as long as I have you two.”

Tears filled her eyes once more, but this time they weren’t in sadness and regret, but for the love she felt and that filled her heart. Nino was right — the world could catch fire. 

A smile broke out on her face and she grabbed his wrist. “No,” she corrected him, bringing his hand down and placing his palm on her stomach, flat now, but aflutter with butterflies at the possibilities that may be. “As long as you have us three.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please check out the [MLB Fanworks Discord Server](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks)! There are so many amazing people there and it's a really warm and inviting space to be! So many writing prompts, recommended works and media being shared - you can never run out of things to do! (And if you join the server, make sure you come and scream at me - it'll be muchly appreciated.)  
> Shout out to all the awesome peeps there who have been helping me with this fic right from the start, this is dedicated to all of you xxx
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment or kudos! I hope to be seeing you all again soon xxx


End file.
